I feel like I should sit down and write, but I’m not sure what to say.  It’s not that I don’t have an opinion on things – but I think I’m just not feeling the need to dump it into words on a page.

A writer whose blog I used to follow talked about “coaxing the muse into speaking”.   I guess that’s where I’m at.  Sometimes that voice in my head and heart screams so loud – all I can do is let her speak through my fingers.

But then there are times where she is quiet.  Not feeling the need to speak.  And it is during these periods of silence that I stare at blank pages.  Until I force myself to speak.

For some you may be wondering where my photos have gone.  I lost my card reader.  And I haven’t had time to go buy a new one.  That is the short lame answer.  Maybe later, I’ll wander across the street to the office supply store and buy one.   Yeah, like I said, it’s a lame excuse.  I’ve been taking photos – just that’s it.

I’m itching to do aerial yoga more than once a week.  May have to give in and trade my munch night in for a yoga night.  But I’ll miss my friends – and it won’t work all of the time given I’m helping with the annual BDSM conference.  I don’t know.  All I can do is keep my fingers crossed they add another night to the schedule.

After work last night, I was told to meet my Dom near the local adult theater.  Before he left for vacation, he wanted me to give him a blow job while he watched the porn.  This means also being the show as the men usually pay more attention the live action than the screen when a woman is in there.  As expected, I guess there was quite the audience.  He knows I am conflicted about doing this for him. The place is sketchy.  I don’t mind being watched but to have 15+ men standing their – only sounds are of their heavy breathing and of their jerking off which can be a bit distracting and creepy – at least to me.

I guess I was letting it distract me from my duties last night because several times he grabbed me by the hair and held me in place as he controlled the rhythm and pace.  Or shoved it deep into my throat so he could remind me who was in control.  Or slap my face as he did that to remind me where my attention should be. 

After he came and I sucked the last drops of cum from his cock, I sat there with my head on his leg – waiting for him to recover.  He stroked my hair – and spoke his usual words of endearment that included cum slut, sexy bitch, good girl.  Then, he rose, composed himself for leaving, and helped me to my feet.  A final passionate kiss and swat on the ass, and we left.

He took me to a bar he likes, bought me a beer, and told me stories about his day – and life.  While I’m not sure I would call him my boyfriend as our relationship dynamic and all is not quite to that level, I do enjoy talking to him about life.  He is definitely a friend who happens to be male – who brings out the submission in me.  Seems to work.

Speaking of work, work has been the usual crazy affair.  I swear we aren’t going to make any further progress. Yeah, I know – that’s the spirit.  I do work with some pretty good people though.  The Portuguese woman who is a riot given the profanity and innuendo that can come out of her sweet Catholic mouth.  Or the new guy who is the boy next door until he starts telling stories, then pauses to say “yeah, this will require a beer to finish telling.”  Or the 23 year old who knows his shit, but can’t help flipping shit at me all of the time.  Work is definitely entertaining with the right people around.

Ok, I think this is all I have.  Happy Hump Day!